


Manifest

by Tat_Tat



Series: Steven Universe Fics in 2016 [4]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Complete, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Witch AU, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6681397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago, Lapis Lazuli became a witch to escape her problems. She thought it would be easy but she is still here, alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be multi-chaptered. Probably going to be the most SFW long piece I’ve written. 
> 
> I thought of this AU in late October when there was a lot of fanart of witch Lapis with cat Peridot. It’s taken me to this point to figure out where to take the idea. This will be fantasy story with a bit of slice of life.

The door slammed behind Lapis, the rusted hinges screaming as it snapped closed like a mouse trap, startling Peridot.

Peridot shot her a scathing look which Lapis only vaguely regarded. Even if she had been mindful and hadn’t slammed the door (it had, like most things, slipped past her fingers), Peridot would have woken up all the same. The familiar was a light sleeper. Peridot’s tail twitched irritably and she cracked one eye open, watching the young witch enter the den with scrutiny.

“You’re up early.”

“It’s past noon,” Lapis said smartly, taking off her sodden coat and throwing it somewhere.

“Early for you.”

The scent of the previous night was thick on Lapis, and there was a faint layer of morning dew over that, bright and sunny on her skin. Her hair was wet and sticking to her forehead and the nape of her neck. She was never dry, but out of habit she wrung her hair out anyway.

“I didn’t sleep,” she answered, then went to the kitchen counter, which was sloppy with jars of jam, salted meats, biscuits, and dirty plates mixed in with the clean dishes.

Peridot followed after her and perched next to the stove expectantly, but gave a yowl of disdain seeing Lapis pick up two biscuits instead of the pan hanging overhead or the lard sitting there, nestled between a jar of blackberry jam and a jar of honey.

“Oh, come off it!” Lapis snapped. There were dark circles under her weary grey eyes and her body felt like a disjointed bag of bones.

“You woke me,” Peridot insisted stubbornly, trying the knob to the stove.

“You don’t even need to eat,” Lapis muttered.

“But I enjoy it,” Peridot pressed.

Lapis glared at her from the corner of her eye, and picking up an extra biscuit, shoved it in Peridot’s fanged mouth. “There’s no time to make breakfast. Scarf down that biscuit– we’re going out.”

“Mmmph– ou, mmph…” Peridot decided to finish the rest of her biscuit first. “Out?! But you just got back.”

“Exactly.”

As she shoved her simple breakfast in her mouth, Lapis trooped through the quaint hovel, picking up things as she passed and shoving them into the pouch tied to her waist: a handful of coins, two large stones the size of silver dollars, and a scrap of parchment. The final item was too large to contain in the pouch: a broom that felt just right in her hands.

Peridot was waiting for her at the door, licking her paws impatiently. Lapis met her there, hand wrapped around the knob. Peridot braced herself to jump to her shoulder, then fell backwards as Lapis moved unpredictably, making a U-turn.

“Lapis!” Peridot groaned.

“Just wait, will you?” Lapis scowled. She stopped in front of a broad wall, the space surrounding it oddly uncluttered. There were small straight lines starting from the top, ending at Lapis’s eye level. Sitting in front of the wall was a rickety table. Eventually, the table would be in the way of the tally marks on the wall and Lapis would have to move it. The table only contained a sharp, arrow-shaped rock. She picked it up and dragged the pointed edge through the wall next to the scratch she left yesterday. Amidst the fatigue, she tried a small triumphant smile, but couldn’t find it in her and gave up, picking the broom up once again and meeting Peridot at the door.

X

The mid-afternoon air was cool. On previous days, it had been warm and balmy, but now it finally felt like October. “Fine weather for a witch,” Peridot had remarked.

The sun shone, but did not warm Lapis’s shoulders as she took to the air, the layers of her ruffled skirts flapping wildly around her feet until she found a calm current of wind. She relaxed her grip on the broom, allowing it to guide them, the hovel and the sea grotto behind them.

Peridot clung to her neck during takeoff, and Lapis winced as she retracted her claws. “I hate flying. Can’t you just take the boat?”

Lapis didn’t say anything, ignoring Peridot, closing her eyes and relishing the wind blowing freely around her. The feeling ran deeper than the familiarity of flying. A memory not quite her own made her warm in spite of the wind chill. She embraced it, this shadow of a former life, remembering her predecessor, who had owned the broom before her. Her hands moved beyond her control, stroking the broom handle, thumb tracing the cursive script carved into the curvy willow wood. And then, suddenly, she remembered herself and her hands stilled.

She gave a contemptuous sneer at the script carved into the wood: a gaudy love poem that Lapis had read only a few times, written by the one who had made the broom for her predecessor.

_Two together hand in hand_

_Even far across the land_

_Take this willow big and strong_

_It will take you to me where you belong_

_Over prairie, sea, and land_

_No course will disband_

_No wall, no tide, no thin veil_

_My heart, your keep will prevail_

Sometimes, the words changed, but the theme and the purple prose were recurring. The poem made Lapis uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why and chalked it up to her distaste for the one who penned it. This clashed with another, deeper feeling within her that actually liked the poem, the witch who was her, but wasn’t. The witch before her. Lapis felt surly and in love all at once. She shifted awkwardly on the broom, questioning who she was. It was draining.

Peridot placed a cold paw against Lapis’s cheek. “We should have taken the boat,” the familiar insisted again.

Lapis shook her head. “Too slow– and the broom knows the way.”

Peridot nearly fell off. “You’re seeing her?!” she shouted, flabbergasted. She nearly fell off, claws clinging into Lapis’s shoulder.

“Oh, don’t make such a big deal of it!” Lapis scowled. With one hand she extracted Peridot’s claws from her shoulder, one by one.

“You hate Pearl!”

“Don’t make her sound so special, Peri. I hate everyone.”

“But you love me.”

Lapis shot her a look.

Peridot dared to roll on her side, exposing her belly. “Look at me. I’m great. I’m lovable.” Her mouth hung open in a smile, waiting for Lapis to encourage her. Lapis sneered, shoving her off.

The yellow tabby cat floundered, stout legs cycling through the air in a moment of surprise, and then, realizing she could, she took the form of a canary and recovered in the air.

“I’m sorry, did that ruffle your feathers?” Lapis remarked.

Peridot’s chest puffed out in reply. Out of habit she hovered over Lapis’s lap, contemplating it as a perch, but quickly reconsidered.

“What do you want from Pearl?” Peridot asked, a safe distance away.

Lapis’s frown tightened. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business!” Peridot’s feathers puffed out and she flew in Lapis’s face, sputtering. “I’m your familiar, Lapis! We’re partners.“

From below, the blast of a ship horn sounded. They had been so invested in their teasing to notice the large ship approaching. It was large enough to be a cruise liner, but too dingy to hold such a grandiose title. There was red rust crouching up the stern and barnacles the size of acorns clung to the underside. It was a fishing rig, holding empty nets in the breeze and fuller ones on deck that the crew crowded around, eager to unveil the riches they had caught.

Lapis was eager to escape Peridot’s questions. She brushed her hand against the broom and reluctantly it lowered them to the deck of the crowded ship. The sharp smell of fish surrounded them before her bare feet met the slimy deck. A fish flopped against her ankle until Peridot descended upon it, all fur and claws.

The fisherfolk looked up from their full nets to stare. Her broom and the shapeshifter at her feet picking apart the fish were evidence to what she was. The captain saw her too through the broad and filmy windows of his quarters. Lapis watched him jump from his seat, disappear from view, and then storm out the door to greet her. He nearly slipped on the wet deck.

Lapis stiffened when he took her hand and quietly nodded at all the stiff formalities. Lapis wondered if this was worth evading Peridot’s nosiness. Perhaps it would have been simpler to bribe her familiar with a fish. She was busy gorging herself on the fisherman’s catch. The fisherfolk were working faster than when they had met them– they had to to compete against Peridot’s voracious appetite. They were five fish less in under four minutes. Yet none dared to shoot Lapis a dirty look or politely ask her to tell Peridot to stop. To test any witch’s temper would bury them, and as the current sea witch she had a hold on the prosperity of the captain’s business and by association, their pay.

And what was five or ten or twenty less fish, if they could curry the sea witch’s favor? Maybe if they were kind, maybe if they let the familiar eat, they would find oysters amidst the fish bearing pearls. And what if they filleted one of these fish and found a gold ring? Wouldn’t be that be something worth a few missing fish and a very full familiar?

Once the captain had finished the full formality of introducing himself and giving Lapis a tour of the ship, he asked a favor.

“We’re a bit behind schedule,” he said, twirling his mustache around his index finger.

“Of course.” Lapis faked a smile and handed him the broom. “Hold this.”

Her hands free, she motioned up towards the sky. The ocean responded, the tide rising, pushing the boat forward like a child on a swing. The captain and the crew were unprepared and fell over like bowling pins. Peridot had felt the sea fluctuate under her paws and formed wings. This time she retained the rest of her preferred feline form. Lapis was the only one left standing in spite of the slick deck and rolling tide. Water passed over the deck, over the captain and his crew, the nets, and though Peridot tried flying out of the way, sea spray hit her backside.

When Lapis’s hands fell back at her sides, the captain and crew picked themselves up and Peridot’s sodden wings shrank into her back. The front of the crew’s shirts were damp and opalescent, slimy. The captain had lost his cap.

“That should make you ahead of schedule.”

The captain coughed. “Yes, that will do. Thank you.”

Lapis lingered, but after a steely silence and another awkward cough from the captain, she could clearly see no one would offer her compensation and ascended to the air. They waved. Lapis waved back. Not for formalities, but to summon another wave over the deck. The nets, already loose, fell open and the quarry of fish fell back into the sea, happy to be alive.

“Guess they thought what you ate was tribute enough,” she remarked tersely.

“Don’t blame me for this.” Peridot replied, furiously licking her fur, drying herself. Then she yawned, rolling on her side, precariously balanced on Lapis’s shoulder. She was fat and content and fell asleep soon after, and Lapis decided that was her compensation: to make Peridot too sleepy to ask prying questions.

She didn’t want to hear anything. The silence and ocean breeze was cool and pleasant. It wasn’t often that she could toss her worries to the rising tide.

X

Peridot woke just as they landed in town. It was difficult to find a spot to land; the bustle of the early evening crowd was so dense that Lapis had to land on the mayor’s statue and slip into the crowd. Peridot clung tight to her. Lapis winced at the pressure of claws, of elbows knocking into her side and feet accidentally stepping on hers.

“I should have just flown until I reached the shop.”

“What are you doing?” Peridot hissed.. “This isn’t Pearl’s place.”

“It’s on the way,” Lapis explained, weaving through the unexpected throng of people, clutching her broom. “I just have to buy something.”

They smelled the bakery before they saw it, a little corner shop tucked between a house and a boutique. As they walked inside, they saw business was just dying down. There was a small line at the register and a few scattered customers browsing the bread baked that morning and the sales bin. There was one child at the cake display, face pressed to the glass.

Lapis knew what she wanted and took a place in line, her steps damp where she tread. The floorboards of the shop were warped from her previous visits.

Other customers stared at her, at the water damage she was creating, standing there. They looked between her and the owner, expecting the owner to reprimand Lapis. But the owner never minded the warped boards, seemed blinded to the damage Lapis had done.

The owner was tall and broad with a heavy demeanor that had initially scared Lapis. The war was twenty years past, but Lapis still had memories of growing up after the war, when the soldiers still donned uniforms and had lingered for too long.

“Miss Witch!” The owner was boisterous in her greeting, rattling the windows of her shop and startling Peridot.

“Hello, Jasper,” Lapis replied, running a hand over Peridot’s head to calm her.

Jasper leaned over the counter, the largest counter in town that more resembled a judge’s stand than a shop counter, constructed to hold her weight. The last twenty years had been peaceful ones. There was no need for soldiers. Jasper’s gut could attest to that. Yet, her arms were still firm, body strong. Jasper would often boast about how much strength it took to knead dough or squeeze stubborn pastry bags.

“What can I get for you today? The usual?” She started for a loaf of french bread.

“Not today.” Lapis crouched down, peering through the glass case. She pointed at a golden brown rhubarb pie. “I’ll take that one today.”

“Fine choice.” Jasper nodded, sliding the glass case open. “Anything else?”

Lapis watched her box the pie up, shaking her head. The box was then wrapped in brown paper packaging tied up with string. For Lapis there was a little extra flourish: a little red ribbon, tied in a perfect bow. Lapis wondered how Jasper always managed that. Her fingers were the size of bratwursts.

Rose had once told her that everyone, not just witches, had their own special magic. If she believed that, Lapis would say that the bow and baking were Jasper’s gifts.

“Thank you.” She slipped two coins in Jasper’s hand.

“Pleasure as always. And here– you almost forgot this.” She placed a brown paper bag on top of the boxed pie. Lapis already knew the contents: two cookies and occasionally a dinner roll, gifts Lapis noticed, the baker gave to children. Lapis wondered how old Jasper thought she was but she wasn’t about to turn away free food.

"You can share with your little friend.” Jasper pointed at Peridot at her heels.

Lapis smirked, patting Peridot’s round belly. “Oh she’s already had her fill, thank you.”

Peridot’s ears flattened, frowning. Her tail twitched and before Lapis made a move to leave she was at the door, impatiently waiting.

Outside the bakery, the streets were bare and the windows in houses were warmly lit. Dinner wafted from the homes. Lapis’s stomach twisted, gurgled, and she ate both of the cookies before she took to the air again.

X

The cookies and dinner roll did not sate her hunger and as Pearl’s home came into view, Lapis hoped the other witch had made dinner. Loathe as she was to admit it, her head was pounding.

The broom sensed her fatigue and took full reign of the course to Pearl’s. Peridot stirred in her lap but strangely said nothing. Lapis wasn’t sure what to make of that.

The air was thinner here, high in the mountains. Wedged into the cliffside was a three-tiered house, each floor connected to the next at an angle that suggested the steps in a staircase. Covered in vines and flowers, fringed by tall thin trees, it nearly blended into the landscape. The first time Lapis had come to Pearl, she’d spent hours looking for the house until she relented and let the broom guide her completely. That was the day after she came into her powers, during those early days when she felt like she was learning to walk again, when she was still afraid to tread into deep water.

She landed on the hanging platform. It swung under her momentum. She waited until it settled and hopped forward to the front door. It was open. Did Pearl expect her? Lapis shook her head. Pearl didn’t believe in divination, and it was rare for her to have visitors. Witches rarely did. Their residences tended to be in places difficult to reach. It was pointless to lock their doors. And Pearl did like the fresh air.

Still, Lapis took the common courtesy to knock before letting herself in, Peridot running ahead of her, stopping occasionally to sniff a corner or spot, looking for someone too.

“Hello?” She knocked on one of the walls, fully furnished in floral wallpaper. Vines and willow branches hung from the tall ceiling like chandeliers. The plants stirred when Lapis spoke but Pearl remained unseen. Probably in the further reaches of the house, in the cave working on a car, Lapis thought. That was how she had found her the first time.

This time, she found her in the greenhouse, surrounded by orchids and filling a watering can. Near the entrance where Lapis was standing, lounging on an empty shelf, was a plump and fluffy silver-grey cat that lifted her head up, and opened one eye, yawning.

“‘Sup,” the cat drawled lazily.

“Amethyst…?” Pearl asked, watering the orchids. “Is someone there…?” She sounded surprised and a touch anxious. Pearl always did dislike unexpected guests. Pearl liked to plan, to clean, to be prepared and bring out the fine china.

“Sure is.” Amethyst stretched. “You’re going to flip when you see who it is.”

Pearl paused in her watering, back still turned. “…Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Lapis replied.

Pearl quickly turned around in disbelief, holding the watering can awkwardly by the handle and the spout with pinched fingers.

Lapis, she mouthed, but instead, she said, “You’re here.”

Lapis rolled her eyes and nodded. She just wished this part– everything– would be over with. “It’s been awhile,” she said as conversationally as she could.

“It has been.” Pearl set the watering can down and walked forwards to meet her. “Too long.”

Her eyes fell on the broom clutched in Lapis’s hands. “I see you’ve been keeping good care of it– and it’s good to see you too, Peridot.” Peridot had joined Amethyst on the empty shelf, and as cats did, was smelling her, reacquainting herself with familiar scents and discovering new ones, learning where Amethyst had gone since they last saw each other.

“Geez, Peri. You could just ask me what I’ve been up to.”

X

“So,” Pearl started, once she had brewed a pot of tea and Lapis had finished eating the lamb stew leftovers. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“She means: what do you want?“ Amethyst translated.

Lapis tinkered with the spoon, scraping at the empty bowl as she procrastinated an answer. Pearl had taken out the nice china and a tea set with hand-painted hydrangea flowers on each side.

“First, I would like us to be alone,” Lapis requested, looking pointedly at Peridot. Pearl nodded, then gestured with her chin to Amethyst and the door.

Amethyst stood up, giving a longing look at the pie, still boxed up and wrapped in brown paper packaging. “Can’t it wait until after we open Lapis’s gift?”

“Amethyst,” Pearl said tersely.

“What? I smell pie.”

“We’ll open it later, when we’re done talking,” Pearl said, putting on her teacher voice.

Amethyst rolled her eyes, tail waving agitatedly in the air as she strode out of the dining room. Peridot stayed behind, however, stubborn and curious as ever.

“Peridot,” Lapis began testily.

Peridot stood still, tail flicking from side to side.

“Peridot,” Lapis raised her voice and drummed her fingers on the table, much to Pearl’s chagrin. Peridot flinched under the added glare and spun to catch up with Amethyst.

“So,” Pearl said, a few minutes after they had left, when they were sure there were no eavesdroppers. “What did you want to talk about?”

She set her cup down but clutched the thin handle, shaking slightly. She seemed to expect Lapis to throw a fit like she had done before, or to throw objects. But she also seemed to hope and expect the best from Lapis too.

Lapis traced the hydrangea on the teacup, unsure how to put this, at least, in words that Pearl could be persuaded by. Her hand fell from the teacup. Palm flat on the oaken table, she decided she could only tell the truth.

“If a witch wanted her soul to go dormant… could she?”

Pearl’s eyes widened and she released the teacup. There was concern flickering in Pearl’s eyes that Lapis squirmed under.

“Well?” Lapis said, “is it possible?” Diverting the question from herself, wording it as a challenge, asking if Pearl knew.

Pearl could not resist and after a hesitant pause, she answered, “Yes.”

“How?” Lapis pressed.

“Why do you want to know?” Pearl asked.

“There are over a hundred souls roaming inside my body. Maybe one of them can take over.”

Pearl was quiet. She stirred sugar into her cold tea and swallowed. “You’re the water witch now,” she finally managed to say, staring at her cold tea, sugar granules floating to the surface.

“You said it was possible.”

“Their individual role has passed. Now you are the torch that carries on the flame of their existence.” Pearl sighed, fingertips pressing into her teacup, a dozen roses painted onto the porcelain. “A witch cannot come back…” Her throat tightened, as if the thought was choking her. “No matter how much you will it to be.”

“I had hoped,” she said, folding her hands in her lap and looking at Lapis sternly across the table, “that you came back to resume your training.”

“You say that as if it was my decision,” Lapis said, trying to bite her tongue.

“I’m sorry.” The apology was quiet and honest, but too late. Lapis watched Pearl shrink under her contemptuous gaze with a shade of pity, but her anger was stronger, and she stood up slightly to seize the moment.

The vines overhead swayed as if reacting to the mood of the small den. A frigid air slipped in from the windows, stirring the wind chimes, the sound like frozen fractals.

“You stormed out,” Pearl said, looking into her cup.

“Only because you–!”

A crash came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of claws clicking and scraping against tile. A flash of yellow and silver crossed the hallway, taking turns chasing each other.

“Amethyst!” Pearl squawked as glass shattered in the study. The bleak mood broke and the tears had stopped in the corners of her eyes, sorrow replaced with fury. She glanced at Lapis, but before their conversation continued, another crash sounded from another room followed by the skittering of tiny feet with claws.

Lapis was left with her tea and the reverberations of ten years past. The urge to toss the cup aside and leave came over her. She picked up her broom and soon dropped it, the poem warm under her fingertips.

No matter what, it seemed she would never be free of Pearl.


	2. Chapter 2

After cleaning up, Pearl returned with the two familiars, holding them by the scruff of their necks. Amethyst was cheeky, rolling her eyes while Peridot hung miserable and defeated in Pearl’s grip.

“What did I say about roughhousing?” 

“Um, that we’re not even trying and should break more stuff?” Amethyst smiled sarcastically.

Pearl sighed, setting them both in chairs. “Don’t do it.”

Amethyst leaned back in the chair, taking a human form, arms folded. She blew back the bangs hanging in her eyes. “Lame.”

Peridot kept her feline form and hopped out of the chair and onto the table next to an empty plate. Pearl scowled a little at this, but said nothing. As her eyes passed over Lapis again, she said nothing. It was apparent that Pearl didn’t wish to reignite their conversation, inviting the two familiars back to the table, and to Amethyst’s delight, unwrapping the package Lapis had brought.

Amethyst leaned forward to look into its contents, a hungry grin spreading over her full lips. “Told you it was a pie, P!”

“So it is.” Pearl smiled wanly, picking up a knife. “I do like pie.”

Lapis sighed and looked the other way,ignoring the clink of the forks against plates as Pearl divided the pie. Instead, she stared out the window, fog as thin as a veil masking the far drop from the mountain. She didn’t realize how long she had been staring into that abyss until Amethyst poked her shoulder and asked, pointing at her ignored slice of pie, “Are you gonna eat that?”

Lapis shook her head, shoving the plate in Amethyst’s direction.

Pearl had taken only a few bites. “Where did you get this?”

“A bakery on the way.” Lapis mumbled.

Pearl took another slow bite. “The crust is tough, but the filling... this is unmistakably my recipe.”

“That’s what I was about to say,” Amethyst said.

“I’m surprised you noticed, considering you practically inhaled your share,” Pearl said, giving her familiar a cheeky look.  
“You know, years ago I gave this recipe to a bakery. They shut down during the war and never reopened. What was the name of the bakery you bought this from again?”

“Champion,” Peridot said.

Pearl nodded, taking another bite and offering the rest to Amethyst. “I’ll have to pay them--”

“Jasper,” Peridot corrected.

“--Jasper, a visit.” 

Lapis vaguely listened to this conversation, followed by the sound of dishes being washed. In the midst of her brooding her eyelids drooped and her crossed arms fell out of place, into her lap. When she opened her eyes again, Amethyst and Peridot were both purring in her lap and Pearl was beside her. There was a blanket over Lapis’s shoulders that smelled faintly like Pearl and powdered roses. 

“I need to go,” Lapis said groggily as Pearl helped her up.

“No no. You’ll stay the night,” said Pearl gently, leading her to the spare bedroom.

“I don. . . wan. . .to. . .” Lapis loosely protested but followed Pearl’s lead. Pearl helped her into bed and when the covers went over her, Lapis effortlessly fell back asleep, sinking under the covers.

“I know you don’t.” Pearl frowned and doused the light with a whisper.

X

 

The windchimes sang and crickets chirped without rest until the dawn broke. The silence woke Lapis suddenly, and she pulled the covers tightly over her face. Peridot squirmed next to her, also under the covers, but strangely out of her usual feline form.

That woke Lapis up again. The distinct human shape curved beside her was small, and short arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her close. Peridot’s face rested in the space between Lapis's shoulder and neck. The tickle of whiskers was absent but her breath still smelled like fish.

Lapis carefully turned her head for a peek, but the room was still dark, the dawn too fresh, the creeping sunlight mere slivers, too tiny to pierce through. Peridot’s distinctive hairline and the shape of her mouth were all Lapis could see. The rest she put together, drawn from the first and last time she had seen Peridot in this form. 

The last time she had taken human form, it was to comfort Lapis, less than a month after she had come into her powers. She had been sad. Was she sad now? She wasn’t sure, only that the days dragged.

“Peridot?” Lapis whispered.

Peridot stirred but didn’t answer. Lapis called her name again, louder. Peridot pulled her closer, yawned in her ear, and replied two minutes later.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” Lapis said, placing her hands over Peridot’s very human and very pale hands. She rolled over, taking the covers with her.

“Lapis,” Peridot said, sounding more awake. 

“Yes?”

“You’re the water witch now. If you weren’t capable, your body wouldn’t have taken to the water.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“I was worried,” Peridot explained.

“You disobeyed me.”

“For your best interest.” Peridot pulled her close. Lapis did not slip away. “Please-- I can help you.” 

Lapis laughed dryly. “You can’t.”

“Then what can I do?” Peridot asked.

“Nothing,” Lapis said.

She pretended to fall back asleep until she really did sleep.

X

When Lapis woke a third time, there was something sweet and fruity in the air. It was past dawn, past morning, and the afternoon was too warm for October. Lapis kicked off the covers and rolled onto her front, pressing her face into the pillow, but the lure of the fruity smell was strong and sweet and her stomach was weak. Reluctant but hungry, Lapis slipped out of bed. She was shortly confused by her surroundings, expecting her own bed, then a set of windchimes flittered in the warm breeze, reminding her of Pearl and where she was.  
The bed and covers were not drenched in water. Closer inspection showed the bedsheets were wrapped in sealskin and the covers made of the same material. As an extra precaution enchantments were embroidered into the corners. Lapis could only read one of the words: water, the only sigil she knew.

The floors were also charmed to be waterproof, gleaming in reaction to each step she took to the kitchen, where the sweet smell wafted from. 

The kitchen was brightly lit, the sun pouring through a skylight, temporarily blinding Lapis. Pearl had her back turned to the door. She was at the stove stirring one of four simmering pots while Peridot was eating tilapia filets seasoned with fresh basil and tomatoes from the garden. Amethyst’s breakfast was unorthodox: a big bowl of jam, freshly made, still steaming.

“Want some?” Amethyst held a wooden spoon out to Lapis.

Lapis dabbed at the jellied mass heaped on Amethyst’s spoon with her pinky. Strawberry jam, she thought to herself after tasting it.

Pearl turned around briskly. “You’re awake-- finally.” 

“I could have slept more.” Lapis shrugged, taking a seat between the two familiars. 

Pearl gave a disapproving look, which Lapis appreciated.

“Here,” Pearl said, offering a plate of dinner rolls, lightly toasted with a small ramekin filled with jam. 

“Blackberry,” Lapis said aloud, tasting it.

“Your favorite.” Pearl sounded proud of herself for being thoughtful.

“Why are you making jam?” Lapis asked. Pearl was always making something-- automobiles, charms, meals-- to keep her mind off things, Lapis thought.

Pearl stirred two of four pots of jam in a figure-eight motion. “It’s for the Harvest Festival. Did you forget?” 

“Peridot has reminded me. Several times,” Lapis said irritably. .

“I told her Steven would be there.” Peridot added.

The corner of Lapis's mouth twitched and she diverted the subject, far enough away. “Why do you have to make jam? I thought you just have to dance?”

“I could.” Pearl turned the front burners off and started to ladle a batch of jam into mason jars. “But I enjoy the festival as a whole. Before I came into my powers I went every year.”

“Even then?”

“Even then.” 

“Pearl’s been around longer than me.” Amethyst displayed her empty bowl. Pearl reluctantly ladled some of the jam into her bowl, a lighter portion than before.

“You think so?”

Amethyst shrugged. “I guess. Feels like it.” Amethyst’s age was ambiguous, more than the average familiar. Pearl and Rose had found her in a cavern without a witch to guide or memory. Sometimes witches made familiars and left them in places for emergencies, Pearl had once explained to Lapis, when Amethyst wasn’t around. “It’s cruel is what it is," she said. Lapis had agreed, empathizing with a solemn nod.

“The jam is for the fair during the day,” Pearl explained to Lapis. To Amethyst she said, “we’ll have to go into town for ingredients. I’m making bread too.”

“Can you make a cake?!” Amethyst asked excitedly, her mouth full of rose jam. 

Pearl wiped the jam from Amethyst’s face. “I suppose I could... there is going to be a cake walk too.”

“I meant for us… but okay.”

“I’ll make one for us too, of course,” Pearl reassured and without thinking, ladled more jam into Amethyst’s bowl. Lapis and Amethyst laughed when Pearl caught herself, looking horrified.

“That’s the last one, Amethyst!”

“Sure, sure.” Amethyst waved her spoon, disbelieving. 

X

“I should go.” 

The plate of toasted dinner rolls and jam had been polished off. Already, Lapis was reaching for her broom.

“I put it in the den,” said Pearl. There was no more jam cooking on the stovetop. All accounted for in mason jars wrapped with pink ribbon. The kitchen was spotless, as if Pearl hadn’t cooked at all and the food had materialized out of thin air. 

“Thanks.” Lapis scooted out of her seat and Pearl followed after her. 

“Wait!” There was a hint of desperation in her voice.

“What?” Unlike Pearl, Lapis didn’t bother to mask her emotions, fully expressing her irritation. Lapis’s tone was effective, nearly dismantling Pearl. Pearl did step back, but took two steps forward. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Pearl cautiously asked, barring Lapis’s path.

Lapis shook her head, 

“You’re welcome to come back you know. We should resume your training.”

At Lapis’s silence, Pearl knew she was wearing the younger woman’s patience. Feeling defeated, but stubborn Pearl sought another route, changing the subject. “I see. Well before you leave, I want to show you something. A project I’ve been working on.” She found Lapis’s broom and handed it to her. “I’ll show it to you on your way out.”

Something brushed her hand as Pearl led her and Peridot to the inner cavern, but it was not Pearl’s hand or Amethyst’s. And Peridot was draped over her bare shoulders like an ermine scarf. Before she could look to see what it was, they were bathed in the darkness of the cave.

Pearl whistled a sweet high note and the lanterns came to life, revealing several refurbished automobiles. Among them was a long cylindrical vehicle with outstretched arms that looked like bat wings and a propeller on its face.

“It’s an aeroplane,” Pearl provided.

“What does it do?” Lapis never understood why Pearl kept the automobiles. The mountain the other witch resided in was too cumbersome and narrow for the machines. By foot or by air was the only possible way to travel.

“It flies.” Pearl smiled, watching Lapis from the corner of her eye, waiting for her to be impressed.

“But… you can fly.” 

Pearl frowned. Amethyst laughed. Peridot was the only one who was intrigued and jumped off Lapis’s shoulders for a closer look. 

“Looks decent,” Peridot commented critically. Her ermine body arched as she jumped inside the pilot’s seat.

“Decent?” Pearl scoffed, rolling her eyes. Peridot started to paw the control panel, muttering under her breath as she slinked out of sight, possibly fiddling with the inner workings of the aeroplane. Panicked, Pearl dove into the pilot’s seat after her. “Don’t touch anything!”

The acoustics in the cave were amazing, echoing Pearl and Peridot’s irritated retorts towards each other in jargon that was lost to Amethyst and Lapis.

“Y’know, sometimes, I think they just make up words.”

Lapis snorted at Amethyst’s quip, laughter echoing off the cave walls but overrun by the ferocity of Pearl and Peridot’s debate. Then Lapis she felt something brush her hand again and her laughter suddenly stopped. With the lanterns lit, and no one to distract her, Lapis looked to see what was tickling her hands.

It was a white feather, curved like a crescent moon with a bell the size of a thimble tied alongside it. Lapis knew what it was instantly: not just a windchime, a protection charm, almost like the one the broom had come with. The original windchime had been tied with red and white braided cord and a bell made out of moonstone. It had been yanked off ten years ago in this same cave. Lapis still remembered how good it had felt to throw it in Pearl’s face. She carefully blotted out that she had regretted it later, when she came home.

Lapis turned the windchime over in her hands. The bell jingled in a pitch she couldn’t catch. Amethyst’s ears twitched at the sound. She had been watching Lapis.

Lapis dropped the wind chime and it swung like a pendulum, hanging on the broom handle. “You look like you have something to say.”

Amethyst shifted uncomfortably, hair falling in her eyes. “Yeah,” she admitted. “It’s about Pearl-- and you. You know.. you could be a little nicer to her, Lapis. I know she doesn’t make it easy sometimes. But, she really means well, and she’s sorry. I think… don’t you think you’ve punished her enough?”

“She abandoned me.” Lapis’s voice was impassive.

“She made a mistake. And she gets that.” Amethyst sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “Why are you even here?”

“I want something.”

Amethyst didn’t look surprised, only concerned. Peridot had overhead Lapis and Pearl talking last night. She didn’t doubt Amethyst also knew what she wanted. Lapis thought she would receive a lecture from Amethyst of all beings, but the familiar had only drawn in her lips and suggested,  
“If there’s one thing I learned, sometimes when you want something, you gotta scratch a few backs, make nice whether you want to or not.”

Lapis gave a noncommittal nod. The charm tied to her broom swept against her clenched hands, and she forced her attention back to Peridot and Pearl, who were still bickering about the construction of the aeroplane. Peridot sounded like she wanted to make adjustments, and Pearl was sure that the aeroplane was fine as it was.

“You’re going to fall right out of the sky.” Peridot laughed.

“That’s already happened!” Amethyst said.

“That was a test flight.” Pearl straightened defensively. The glare to Amethyst did not go unnoticed by Peridot, who snickered victoriously.

Lapis swallowed, stepped forward. Her hand swept over the aeroplane’s nose, she did not sense any magic within it. Not even a precautionary measure, odd for Pearl but it made sense. Pearl was trying not to rely on magic, to challenge herself. Rose had said Pearl was always driven but Lapis disagreed. Inquisitive, was the right word then, now she was driven.

Lapis didn’t understand. Just making it out of bed was a victory. She envied Pearl for trying, and maybe, among the other things that was why she hated her.

“What do you think?” Pearl had been watching her stroke the craft. Her teeth were showing, eager for praise.

“It’s. . .” Lapis hesitated, dropped her hand to her side. Finally, she said: “it’s interesting.” Beautiful. She almost said.

“Thank you.” Pearl said, touching her handiwork. Her eyes lingered on the passenger seat behind the pilot seat and Lapis saw an opening to leave.

“I’ll be going. I saw your. . aero. . “ She forgot the word. “. . .your machine.”

“Aeroplane.” Pearl said with a smile, and then, hopeful, quiet, “I’ll see you at the Harvest Festival?” 

“I’m not going.” 

“It’s a witch’s duty.” Pearl reprimanded gently, careful. 

All Lapis could think of was fishing barge she had helped out on the way to Pearl’s, how they hadn’t expressed gratitude, like they were entitled to her help. Not even a simple thank you.

“You’ll be there.” Lapis said.


	3. Chapter 3

Pearl’s aeroplane took off the same time as Lapis ran off the perch and let the wind carry her. Pearl’s plane needed to gain momentum to take off and didn’t catch up with Lapis until a few minutes later. They flew together, the windchime hanging from Lapis’s broom singing in the breeze and the roar of the aeroplane’s engine buzzing in their ears. 

On Lapis’s shoulders, Peridot watched Pearl and Amethyst ride the plane, still skeptical of its sturdiness. Lapis wasn’t sure if her familiar was waiting for the engine to pitch and the plane to fall so she could gloat or so if it came from a place of concern. Together as a group they flew in silence. Most of Pearl’s face was hidden because of the large aviator goggles she was wearing, but there was a gleam of triumph in her smile. Lapis forgot to hate her and returned the expression.

When the town came into view, Pearl waved and Amethyst did too (but she also made faces). Pearl navigated the plane to the left, away from them, flying through a cloud. They were gone when the cloud drifted out of the way.

The wind chime charm quieted once Pearl was gone, or maybe because the wind had calmed with the rise of the afternoon. They passed over the town they had stopped at last night, called Hominy, smelling of grain and sunshine, then a few minutes later passed near Pewter, an industrial city with towers that tried to reach the grey sky. The city smelled like oil, and the ocean wasn’t as pristine there as all the other towns. Lapis flew a lap around the obsidian cliffside. Before she continued on she wondered if she should do something. What could she even do?

“You could hold counsel with the mayor.”

Lapis frowned, bristling at the idea of speaking to an authority figure. “What if they ignore me?”

Peridot laughed. “Only fools dismiss witches.”

“The captain of the fishing rig was rude yesterday.”

“And you punished them for it,” Peridot said. 

“I was being petty,” Lapis admitted. “I can’t be petty with the mayor of a city.”

“Why not?”

Lapis shook her head as if to dislodge the idea. Passing Pewter, they were halfway home. The mellow afternoon slowly descended into evening before they spoke again, though Peridot made several attempts before then, agitating Lapis about the Harvest Festival.

“Peridot?” The sky was purple, draped in its liminal space, Lapis was reminded of when Peridot had spoken to her that morning, before dawn broke. 

Peridot turned her head. It was slightly windy. Her yellow fur was on end as if surprised, but it was not that: “I smell a storm.”

Lapis paused, then realized the familiar was only observing the weather, not her. 

“Were you--?” Lapis began to ask but as she opened her mouth she could taste it too: that wet humidity, that crackle of energy waiting to burst. It would be a strong storm. She gripped the broom, urging it faster. 

Peridot’s claws dug into Lapis’s knee, bracing herself for the burst of speed. Raindrops fell, first needle-sized drops, and then a steady rain that quickly soaked the cat. 

“Faster,” she urged.

“It’s just a little rain, Peri,” Lapis teased, giving her broom a squeeze.

“It’s going to be a lot more that that in a minute! And you could stop the raindrops from falling on me. That would be nice.” Between Lapis, who was perpetually damp, and the oncoming downpour, Peridot didn’t have many options, except to jump from the broom and take the form of a canary. But she reconsidered that plan since the rain would be as heavy as iron bullets in that form. By the time Lapis decided to control the rain, Peridot’s fur was soaked. 

The little sea hovel came into view, as shabby as ever. Lapis was glad to see home for more than the threat of the storm. Pearl’s house was too put together and made her uncomfortable. The sea hovel was crooked, as if it were leaning back into the sea, and there were roof tiles missing. The disorder helped Lapis relax and feel at ease. As they walked inside, the wind whipped and the sea churned around the little home, but the walls did not sway, nor did the roof leak. The hovel welcomed witch and familiar, runes glowing from the walls and roof, bathing them in luminous turquoise. 

Lapis left her broom and pouch near the door and started a pot of tea using the tea leaves that Pearl had gathered, now stale, not that Lapis cared. She didn’t have the same penchant for tea as the other witch, only using it for occasions such as this- - always when it stormed, sometimes when it sprinkled.

“What were you going to ask me?” Peridot asked as Lapis was steeping the tea. The familiar had dried herself after some strenuous licking. Lapis had pointed out it would be easier for her to shapeshift into a human form and use a towel but Peridot was indignant.

Pouring the tea, Lapis shrugged. “Nothing really.”

“It’s always something with you,” Peridot pointed out. 

Lapis smiled wanly. “It’s a silly question.”

Peridot dryly laughed. “You’ve hardly asked useless questions. I should know, I’ve worked with a lot of idiots.” She paused for a moment, thinking, then added. “I wish you would ask more questions, Lapis.”

Lapis frowned at that and quickly asked, “Were you ever human?”

“Why do you ask?”

Lapis shrugged, sipping her tea, spat it out a little. “Curious. Witches were once human. I wondered if their familiars were the same.”

“You never cared to ask before,” Peridot said, and then, “It’s been so long I’ve forgotten. I don’t know what I was, if I was before.”

“Amethyst doesn’t either,” Lapis said. “Is that normal?”

Peridot rolled her shoulders. She didn’t seem disturbed by this. Lapis set her tea down and Peridot hopped on the table to drink from it. After a few laps from the cup, she licked her chops and said, as if to not disappoint Lapis, almost an afterthought, “I do know one thing. We’re made with intent.”

“Intent?” Lapis had heard the word used in a solid tone of importance several times since she came into her powers. But like familiars, like anything else that did not pertain directly to her natural abilities, she hadn't asked.

Peridot smirked, proud of Lapis. However, her smile looked crooked and cruel, coming from a feline face, causing the witch to turn away. “Intent is how a witch moves the world. You can move the ocean freely because you’re the water witch, but if you want to dabble in other magic. . . it takes concentration. That’s why Pearl is so talented. Her intent is strong.”

Catching the disdain in Lapis’s expression, Peridot pressed two paws on her wrist. “Yours could be strong too. It is strong, Lapis. You just have to apply yourself.”

“To what? The Harvest Festival? Pewter City?!” Lapis shouted. 

“Something,” Peridot muttered. “You have to find something.”

“What if I don’t want to-- What if there isn’t something?!”

“There is!” Peridot pressed, shaken slightly but persistent. “The water took to you. It wouldn’t if--”

“Maybe the water made a mistake,” Lapis bit out.

“The water never makes mistakes. And I see it in you too. I saw it the moment you entered the spring. I was drawn towards you like the ones before you. I knew. I knew it was you.”

But Lapis wasn’t listening. She was walking away. She stopped in front of the wall full of tick marks and drew a new line into the wall. Peridot followed her, brushed against her ankles, nearly tripped her. Lapis almost kicked her, but reconsidering her anger, chose to slam the bedroom door in the familiar’s face.

And then she went to bed, frustrated and morose. The room, like the entranceway walls and roof, were laden with runes that glowed softly around her that she couldn’t read. She wished the room was pitch dark. She wished she knew how make the room dark with just a whistle, like Pearl.


	4. Chapter 4

The amber lanterns of the Harvest Festival could be seen from across the sea, illuminating the distance. Some drifted all the way to the hovel. One sank into the water, the flame instantly extinguished.

As soon as Lapis saw the lanterns, she closed all the curtains. Peridot was displeased by that and escaped to the roof to watch the lit procession. Lapis meanwhile lay in bed, unable to sleep, unable to do much of anything, to see a point in leaving the bed. The only motivation she had was to close the curtains. That had been a quick, angry burst of energy. She wondered where it had come from.

She had no energy, but she couldn’t fall asleep. She was restless under the covers. The curtains were drawn but the lanterns’ glow, once seen, penetrated her thoughts, and when she closed her eyes, trying to sleep, she instead remembered her first Harvest Festival.

Steven’s hand was in hers then, squeezing reassuringly. Walking two paces behind them was his mother Rose and also Pearl. Steven was still human then and fourteen. Lapis was not. She was sixteen and had just come into her powers. She was still shaken by the sensation of drowning and her new abilities were difficult to control. The water moved to the cadence of her emotions. With Steven there, however, the tides calmed. 

He had been her anchor, her best friend before she was a witch. Growing up, Lapis had forgotten to smile, but not long after they had met, Steven had coaxed a smile out of her and she remembered how to laugh again.

They were making fart noises, Rose was laughing, and Pearl was frowning. Amethyst joined in and Pearl gave up, throwing her hands in the air as she groaned. But when Rose joined in, Pearl contained her disapproval to a grimace.

The streets were lit in amber light and every corner smelled of funnel cake and candied apples or some other savory street fare. Farmers were selling pumpkins while vendors were selling roasted pumpkin seeds. Lapis cracked them between her teeth while Amethyst gulped seeds down like warm apple cider.

Peridot would go between walking alongside Amethyst and lounging on Lapis’s shoulders like a yellow ermine scarf. Lapis didn’t mind, preferred this closeness actually. The October ten years ago had been colder than anyone anticipated. She was even wearing shoes.

The Harvest Festival the year after was different. The night air was balmy, leaving the bonfires almost barren. Steven’s hand was in hers but he was like her now, a young witch. He was waving pumpkin seeds in their faces and smiling to cheer them up and Pearl tried a half-hearted smile, unable to to eat anything. Lapis took a few pumpkin seeds but they were ashen in her mouth. Amethyst ate-- too much, not even tasting the food.

No one mentioned that Rose was absent from the group and Lapis had to carry Peridot the whole night in her arms. 

Everyone missed Rose but no one else seemed as affected by it as Pearl was, or maybe, Pearl tried to be the most distraught to show her loyalty. That’s what Amethyst had said, rolling her eyes: “She’s just showing off!”

It was more than that. The festival wasn’t the same without Rose. With Rose’s death, new expectations arose for Lapis, and new roles Lapis didn’t have the patience for.

X

She didn’t want to lay down anymore because it left too much room for thought. She picked up her broom from the bedside and pulled back one of the curtains, then propped open the window. A cold spray of water and a gust of wind greeted her, ruffling her hair. She mounted her broom, naked in the half moon's light. All the ships were moored during the festival so she did not risk being seen.

She shivered but kept to the air. Her concern for the cold blotted out intrusive thoughts. Lapis didn’t want to think; for once she didn’t want to feel. There was gooseflesh on her skin and her hair was standing on end. The chill wind added to the cold and when Lapis blinked there was frost on her eyelashes.

She flew without aim, allowing the broom to guide her. It carried her over craggy rocks as white as bone and islets that dotted the sea. It took her far away from the lights and avoided civilization. The sea was calm, like a sheet of glass reflecting the stars. Life stirred below, unassuming of the festivities on the surface world. Life moved on below-- and something else, something darker moved among the sea fauna. Lapis could sense it. The presence pulled her out of her fog, righting her into reality. 

She stopped the broom and leaned over cautiously. She wondered if the presence had intended to make itself known, or had made a mistake, expecting her to not be traveling tonight. It was a fair judgement to make-- she wasn’t supposed to be out here. She was supposed to be among the celebrations and the lanterns, dancing around a bonfire.

She wished that she had had the foresight to take one of the lanterns that had drifted all the way to the hovel so she could peer into the darkness. She considered going back home, forgetting about it. She thought about going back home to fetch Peridot. A part of her considered asking Pearl for help-- an intrusive thought. That last option made her reconsider the first two and despite her better judgement, she decided that it would be best for her to handle it on her own.

The presence lay in her own dominion, she reasoned, which gave her the advantage. It would look pathetic if she had the upper hand but still asked for help. And she was tired of being seen as useless, feeling useless, being useless. No one would see her triumph, but she would know it. That was the hardship of being an adult, a witch: to not be acknowledged for one’s efforts. 

Lapis coaxed the broom to descend to a foot above the water. As she was looking into the depths, dipping her toes in, a tawny-colored pygmy owl roosted on her broom. 

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes.”

“You’re being foolish,” Peridot warned. 

“How did you find me?”

“I saw you slip out. I followed.” Peridot cocked her head, ruffled her yellow-brown feathers, and made a clicking sound with her beak, as if tutting her. “I sensed it too.”

“Then you know I have to take care of it.”

“I know that it’s too strong. We need Pearl.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

She slid off the broom and dove into the water, a final, petulant act. 

The water welcomed Lapis like a second skin and held her suspended and floating as she adjusted to the pressure and the absence of air. Breathing underwater was always the hard part. She would hold her breath until she was coughing in water and spasming, her body thinking it was drowning. It took willpower to remind herself this was impossible and for the first ten minutes she breathed in slowly, breathed out slowly, until the act again became second nature.

A sleek, serpentine body brushed against Lapis’s hand as she opened her eyes. It was still dark, but now penetrating it were sharp blue eyes looking into hers. It was a moray eel. Its yellow body radiated with bioluminescence, not typical of its species. Recognizing this, Lapis knew it was Peridot, who had combined the best qualities of two species of eel for this venture. 

Peridot pressed her snout against Lapis’s arm, meaning that her vision was poor in this animal form. The moray eel body was smooth and scaleless, like a silk scarf. Peridot lingered in the crook of her arm, as if to beg her not to go. Underwater they had limited options of communication and when Lapis pressed on, Peridot darted out of her arms and into her face again, flashing rear hooked teeth. But Lapis swam, because as predicted, Peridot did not carry out her threat. She scrambled to follow Lapis, trailing behind her like a yellow ribbon.

X

The sea was too quiet tonight. The ocean didn’t follow the same rules as the surface world, active at all hours of the day, but the reefs were not swimming with traffic as they should be. Only a handful of animals darted past them like frightened minnows, and the plant life hung, dejected in the current.

Peridot frantically twined around Lapis’s arms and legs. Like the few animals they had seen, the familiar sensed something, and her instinct to escape was ablaze. Lapis felt something like apprehension, but not enough to leave. She was already here. She had already resolved to face this alone. 

There, in an alcove swathed in dead algae, something stirred, light as air. The ground did not rattle but the sand stirred like a wave, like a current drawing them in, welcoming them vindictively. Peridot wrapped her body around Lapis’s arm. The mucus from the eel form made it difficult to keep a firm grip. She tugged, headbutted, but Lapis floated, facing the malevolent presence still sheathed in darkness, waiting for it to reveal itself.

_I see you._

A voice reverberated in her head. _I see you, Lapis Lazuli. I see you._

Unable to vocally reply, Lapis stayed her post. That spoke more volumes than words could. _So you see me_ , she thought to herself. _Now let me see you._

As if reading her thoughts, it slipped out of the alcove, tendrils first, parting the brown algae curtains. 

With its entrance came light, soft pinks and cutting crimson hues against the navy sea. The light poured from its voluminous body, rivaling a whale’s. A jellyfish, white capped like a mushroom. Red and pink and ruddy purple tentacles dangled like intestines and drifted towards Lapis.

Lapis drew back using a current of water. She could see the jellyfish did not try hard to grab her. Lapis knew it would try again, that this first advance was a joke. Her body was taut and the ocean was still. She was ready to spring.

The jellyfish did not have eyes but it lingered as if watching her. It was waiting for her to lower her guard, Lapis realized. It reached out to her again, an even slower approach, as if offering her a hand to kiss. 

Lapis was unaware of how quiet it was. There was a drumming in her head that had started as a tap within her chest and was now a thunderous roar. Deafening. Dread. She felt dread!

The jellyfish caught her hand, its touch like torchlight scalding her wrist. Lapis grit her teeth and reached to wrench the tendril away. More than a burn, it stung, like barbed wire sinking into her skin. 

Her body stiffened, numbed, her cold confidence escaping her. She thought she knew what it was to be numb. Apathetic. But what she felt now was not that same detachment, a detachment she had grown so accustomed to that she forgot what everything else felt like.

Fear. Numb with fear. A dawning realization that she would, just as she had wished, die here.

 _But I don’t want to die_ , she thought, surprising herself, pulse fluttering. 

_She remembered slippery, moss-covered stones under her feet when she was sixteen. She was wearing a heavy coat in the middle of a sweltering August. With every other step she bent down to pick up a stone and add it to her coat pockets, until she reached the end of her travels, a spring wreathed in green. She did not take off her coat to sink into the deceptively deep spring. The coat buoyed upwards, as if it would slip off, but in time the water soaked through._

_Breathing in, she had sputtered, surprised by the sharpness of saltwater. And she drowned._

She nearly grasped the tendril, then her arm was drawn back, it seemed with a life of its own. Then she saw Peridot and processed the sharp teeth buried in her upper arm.

Peridot pulled her away from the jellyfish.. The rear-hooked teeth ensured that Lapis’s arm was snug in her mouth as she played tug of war with the jellyfish. 

The jellyfish’s luminous display of colors roared to life in alarming, flashing reds. The umbrella-shaped cap flattened, enraged, and it dispensed several tentacles to pry Peridot away. Several lashes snapped at the familiar's sides, penetrating through the thick, protective mucus the eel body granted her. Deep wounds opened but there was no blood to be drawn.

Peridot! Lapis screamed, but only a strained noise and bubbles came out of her mouth. She pulled her wrist free from the jellyfish, unaware of her own strength, to catch the serpentine body floating still. The body was limp when she caught it.

A numbness took hold of her. Fear and panic were tossed away. She wept, shuddering, Peridot’s small form clenched in her shaking hand. Pure unthinking rage, driven by loss, moved her. The jellyfish reared back, floundering. She drove it back into the alcove it had come from. Then, backed into its corner, she drove spikes of ice through its body like arrows. 

The gelatinous monster behind her, she rose to the surface, kicking her feet slightly, holding Peridot’s remains close to her chest.

Her broom was hovering, waiting for her. The wind bit into wet skin and open wounds. This pain, however, was welcome, the last thing capable of grounding her.

She waited for Peridot to stir against her chest on the ride home, to hear a muffled quip, a purr. Anything. The trip home was cloaked in a pallid silence. The lanterns were still bright and hanging in the sky and Lapis wondered if she had gone to the Harvest Festival then Peridot would be purring in her arms instead.


	5. Chapter 5

The broom knew the way home. Lapis didn’t remember steering it. All she remembered was holding Peridot close to her chest and hovering near the amber lanterns of the Harvest Festival. They had drifted close enough that she could see the Jack O’Lantern faces painted in black ink. 

She didn’t immediately dismount the broom when she reached land. The broom drifted all the way to the door of the hovel, and finding no further path, gently landed there on the stoop. The broom fell at Lapis’s side. She couldn’t find the energy to move and curled up, the door to her back, forehead pressed to her knees. The lack of willpower to get up wasn’t something new. She was familiar with that, complacent and accepting it even. The difference now was she had a reason to not move, to lay down in pity. And unlike the other “unreasonable” times, she cried.

The pinprick of tears startled her and goaded another shuddering cry. She could remember the last time she had cried-- too long ago. Too young to remember how old she was then, but old enough to remember why. The war ravaged homes, including her own, assuming she had had one. The sky was always threatening to fall. Everyone slept restlessly, anxious that a raid would blow open windows and doors in the middle of the night. Suitcases and bags were packed by the bedside just in case. 

Lapis didn’t have that luxury. She had her clothes and a coin purse to hold the two coins she had, alongside two biscuits she was saving for later. She held it close to her, prepared for thieves.

She had clutched the coin purse to her chest when the walls of the building collapsed around her. And she was sure she would die. Back then she had cared. Back then she wanted to live. In spite of the war-torn landscapes, she had wanted that more than anything.

“Help me,” she had whispered then, with the coin purse pressed to her chest. 

“Help me,” she whispered now, not for herself, hugging Peridot’s remains to her chest. “Please...” she asked, unsure who she was talking to. “Please.” And then, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t notice the broom sneak past and fly off on its own and didn’t observe its absence either. Time hung still and long. She focused her attention on what remained of Peridot and the events that brought them to this point. Her big mistake. She caressed the harrowing memory of the fight like brittle pages of a book, nursing her regret. 

The water level rose steadily over the islet, covering sand and encroaching on crisp grass. The waves lapped up the knickknacks strewn about the yard and still she did not notice, not until she was waist-deep in water. Even after acknowledging it, she didn’t will the tides to stop. It seemed fair to be buried in the sea. 

Yet there was that pining voice that rang deep inside of her, that held on. Held onto Peridot, hugged her knees and chorused, “Help me.”

The hand that rested on her shoulder was a startling combination of callused and soft. Lapis flinched, then slowly raised her head. The smell of talc and roses permeated through the salt air. Hovering beside her, riding the broom that had wandered away, was Pearl.

She had arrived festooned in vibrant amber- and peach-colored robes and wearing the traditional pointed hat with dried flowers sewn around the inner brim. She had come from the Harvest Festival without Amethyst. 

Lapis leapt up, looping her arms around Pearl. The broom bobbed at the sudden weight. Pearl caught Lapis, surprised, drawing her close. The broom steadied, hovering significantly closer to the rising tide.

They held each other for a long moment as the waters crept up to their shoulders. Then Pearl shifted and said in a careful, motherly tone, “Let’s go inside. Will you lower the waters, Lapis?”

Lapis nodded and in one quick movement, the water spread out, leaving the island as it was previously. The ground was sopping wet under their feet, mud and sand swirling together amongst the grass. Lapis led the way but Pearl opened the door, both leaving muddy footprints behind them.

Pearl pulled out a chair for Lapis and gently sat her there. She went to the bedroom and came back with a blanket, draping it over Lapis’s shoulders. Lapis did not pull the blanket over her nakedness, sitting idly, eyes blank, clutching Peridot.

“Where is--” Pearl stopped, her gaze falling on Lapis’s hands, wrung tight around the body. Pearl knit her brow, shaking her head. She knelt in front of Lapis and laid a hand on top of hers. “I’ll make tea. Will that help?”

Lapis nodded. However, when Pearl returned with the tea, she didn’t touch it. Pearl eventually pitched it, cleaned the cup, mopped up the muddy footprints they had tracked in. While Laspis sat, Pearl cleaned around her, waiting for her to move. Trying to wait, anyway. She soon grew impatient, troubled by Lapis’s condition. With nothing more to tidy in the hovel, she fretted over Lapis instead.

Armed with a basin of warm water and a hand towel, Pearl cleaned the smudges on Lapis’s weathered face and the hot, banded wounds around her arms where the jellyfish had touched her. 

Pearl was attentive, precise. Lapis expected nothing less. She had seen the same care given to her projects, Rose’s plants, her cooking... to Steven. However, this was the first time Pearl had ever comforted her as if she were caring for a little lamb. Lapis liked Pearl’s cosseting. She wondered if this was what it was like to have a mother. And closing her eyes, she pretended it was so. When Pearl asked her to lift her arms, she did and a simple smock was slipped over her body and smoothed down so there wasn’t a single wrinkle. Then Pearl led her to bed and laid down next to her, running her long fingers through Lapis’s hair, unknotting the tangles, coaxing her to sleep. Lapis could not sleep, but she did rest, close to Pearl’s breast. 

X

The morning and afternoon was warm as they laid in bed, doing nothing and saying nothing. Then the sky darkened, inviting a chill in the air, and Pearl slipped out of Lapis’s arms, taking the rest of the warmth with her. Surprised, panicking, and desperate, Lapis stumbled out of bed, tripping over the bedsheets that tangled around her ankles.

The fall helped her out of the fog. Panic clearing, she could hear eggs sizzling in a skillet and the sound of a wooden spatula scraping against a cast iron pan. And as she sat up a little, pulling the sheets from her feet, she saw a flash of long legs pacing back and forth and feet pausing, standing on tiptoe to reach the spice cabinet.

The amber and peach robes Pearl had arrived in were draped over the now tidy chair next to the hat. What she was wearing now, Lapis guessed was what she had worn under the robes that night: a ruffled, long-sleeved blue shirt and daisy-patterned textured pants that clung to her legs like tights.

“Good, you’re up,” Pearl said, sounding hopeful. She tried a smile that couldn’t reach her eyes and helped Lapis to her feet.

Lapis let go and slumped into the chair next to the table, the one not occupied by Pearl’s clothes. She looked around her, hardly recognizing her own home. Everything had a place now and she didn’t have to kick things out of her way. She continued to watch Pearl cook breakfast and stretched out over the table. When Pearl arrived with pancakes and eggs, Lapis moved out of the way, but again, didn’t have an appetite.

“At least drink the water,” Peal advised, tapping the glass. Lapis managed a few sips then set it aside, watching Pearl pick apart her breakfast like a surgeon. She didn’t eat much either and the pancakes, like the tea, went to waste. It was too dark for the gulls to take the scraps.

“May I?” Pearl asked, stretching a hand out. It took Lapis awhile to figure out what she wanted. She followed Pearl’s gaze.

Hesitantly, Lapis released her hand and Pearl took Peridot from her. Lapis rubbed her stiff fingers and watched Pearl steadily. She trusted Pearl, but if she had to let Peridot out of reach, she wanted her within sight.

But what Pearl held in her hands didn’t look like Peridot at all, just a shredded, lemon-yellow dishcloth with gemstones barely hanging on by lime-green threads.

Lapis’s eyes widened. Did Pearl do something? Or had Lapis been mistaken and left Peridot’s body in the ocean, grabbing the closest thing that resembled the familiar amid an adrenaline haze?

Pearl caught Lapis’s harried expression, drawn toward the torn cloth in her hands. “You didn’t make a mistake. This is her.”

“It can’t be.”

Pearl handed it back to her. “Remember what I said about familiars?”

“I must not have been paying attention.” 

“No... I suppose you weren’t.”

“So this is all?” Lapis said, pulling the corners of the fabric taut, disbelieving. “A dirty old rag?”

“She was always much more than that, wasn’t she? We all are much more than our physical forms.”

Pearl stood up and paced around the house, Lapis assumed she was cleaning again but then Pearl asked if she had needle and thread. Lapis shrugged. She really didn’t know. But Pearl had found some thread and two needles caked in rust. 

Pearl licked her thumb and ran it over the needle. 

“Sharpen like steel,” she commanded, and it gleamed like new. After spelling the other needle, she shook flakes of rust off her fingers.

Pearl threaded both needles, handing one of them to Lapis, and then she asked again for the tattered old rag that was supposed to be Peridot. 

“What are you doing? How are you so sure it’s her?”

“How are you so sure it’s not?” Pearl replied.

Pearl could lie, but it was not in her nature to lie like this. And Lapis didn’t want to let go of the little yellow rag. 

And maybe that did mean something, her hesitance. So she did let go and Pearl spread the cloth out on the table between them. She arranged the peridot gemstones back in place and replaced the missing stones with new gemstones. Arranged perfectly, it created a diamond pattern.

Pearl ran the needle through the cloth. Lapis wasn’t sure why she flinched. She watched Pearl mend a torn corner before asking, a little agitated, “Why are we doing this?”

“We have to reconstruct her form if we’re to bring her back.”

Lapis narrowed her eyes. “You said the dead can’t be revived.”

Pearl paused, concentrating as she sewed a gemstone into the cloth like a button. 

“You lied to me,” Lapis said testily.

“I said you shouldn’t.”

Lapis frowned. That was a lie too.

“Familiars do not live,” Pearl explained. “So they do not die.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Pearl didn’t correct her. Instead, she said, “It won’t work if you don’t sew too.”

“So that’s all? We’re sewing her back together?” Lapis balked, afraid to make the first stitch.

“With every stitch, you place your intent.” Pearl cut the thread and started on a new section. 

Lapis turned her own sewing needle over in her hands. The thread was thin, turquoise. She thought about how warm Peridot always felt, the softness of her fur or plumage of feathers. She recalled the smooth, elusive human skin and how strange it had been to hear Peridot’s voice come from a human mouth. And Lapis wondered how that warmth, that touch could be possible from the dingy dishcloth Pearl was poring over. It was absurd conjecture, even with the presence of magic. But she had seen Rose cup the origami flowers Pearl had folded and transform them into real blossoms, and she herself could move oceans with a gesture. 

Perhaps, it wasn’t that she couldn’t fathom that magic held Peridot and all other familiars together. Maybe-- yes-- she couldn’t believe that the being she had placed all her love and trust in was basically a snatch of discarded cloth. 

But she could do nothing else but believe. She could feel something like a pulse under her fingertips. That tiny pulse made it difficult to drive the needle through, but once she had, the rest came naturally and effortlessly. Her hands moved, quick and neat, in fine precise stitches and patterns. Lapis could not sew, had never tried. Now she did with an expert’s finesse. A deeply-ingrained predecessor’s muscle memory, summoned at the touch of needle, thread, and the cloth Peridot was cut from.

And somewhere, amid the sewing, Lapis remembered piecing Peridot together for the first time, holding and creating her with the same tenderness.

The feeling lingered after their sewing needles stilled.

“What now?” Lapis asked. Together, they had transformed the dingy yellow rag into something presentable, something grander. 

Pearl was prepared, holding a pen knife. The handle was linen white, made out of deer antler, with detailed carvings of roses and thorns. The blade was small and sharp like a quill.

Lapis’s eyes ran over the blade then looked away, into her lap, shoulders raised. “Isn’t there another way?”

“This is how it’s always been.” 

Lapis didn’t like that. Pearl could be a stickler for rules. “Why can’t we try something else?”

“Because the familiar’s existence requires sacrament, a blood oath. It is what binds you together, Lapis.”

Lapis shook her head. “Another way,” she repeated. She was staring at the wall now, at the tiny tally marks she had drawn on there daily. She realized she hadn’t marked the wall for today but waited. Maybe that would change. She hoped not. 

“Give me your hand.” Pearl’s voice hardened. She had been tranquil and even-tempered up to this point. Of course, she didn’t understand, because Lapis had never told her. Never told anyone. Lapis wanted to keep it that way too. She shook her head, subconsciously rubbed her wrists. No scar tissue, not since she came into her powers. The jellyfish stings were shadows now. Later, her skin would be supple and smooth and perfect. Just like that. A clean slate. She sometimes wondered if the things she had done to herself and the pain she had endured was real or if she had made it up, especially now that the evidence disappeared like tracks in the sand.

“Words can bind,” Lapis suggested. She tugged down the sleeve of her gown, even though there wasn’t anything to show.

“This is strong magic. Words are only half of it.”

“Then you do it,” Lapis snapped.

“I can’t,” Pearl said, and then, after a pause, “I could-- but that would mean Peridot would be bonded to me.” 

Lapis kept her eyes from Pearl, afraid to catch a glimpse of the blade or its shine. She was leaning over the table again, nose tucked into the crook of her arm, fingers petting the damp yellow cloth. 

“But she would be the same even if you did it? She would be. She would move?”

Pearl nodded, whispered, hushed like it was a curse, “Yes.”

“I don’t want her to be mine.” That was a lie. “I just want her to move again. To be again.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Lapis said, turning her head away, closing her eyes. 

Pearl did not make a sound. Lapis thought she was hesitating still, the air thick, but when she turned her head the penknife was already set aside, glossed with what looked like a red varnish, and Pearl was clutching the yellow cloth studded in peridot gemstones. The blood was soaking straight through the cloth, readily absorbing the offering. What was yellow turned crimson. The cloth sparked into blue flames that caressed Pearl’s arm to her elbow. Pearl sat still, unmoving and unharmed.

The cloth wriggled to life soon after and Pearl released it. It was as if something were wrapped up in the cloth, a small animal, and fumbling to get out. Imprints of a face, an arm, pressed through the membrane, like a chick emerging from an egg. Wiry whiskers poked out of the fabric. A nose formed, then ears. The cloth stretched out, cat-like, and four legs formed along with a tail. The finer details knit together instantaneously and what sat there was so far removed from the dirty yellow rag that if Lapis hadn’t helped stitch the familiar together she wouldn’t have believed it. Peridot yawned and was whole again, licking her chops. 

“What did I miss?”

X

The absurdity of the nonchalant welcome was lost on Lapis. She hadn’t heard a word Peridot had said, simply shaking her head, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“You gave her quite the scare,” Pearl warmly chastised.

Peridot snorted, disbelieving. “Lazuli? Concerned about me? Concerned about someone other than herself? You should have done a perception spell first to make sure this isn’t an imposter!”

Lapis’s tears dried at that, glowering at the newly revived familiar. “You prat! I was worried about you!”

The glare did nothing to intimidate Peridot. It was rare that she could get a rise out of Lapis; she was usually the victim of the witch’s teasing. “Oh, she’s mad. Guess this is the right Lazuli.”

“I’ll skewer you,” Lapis spat.

“So soon?” Peridot licked her paws. “You just revived me.”

“No I didn’t,” Lapis replied quietly. Quieter: “Pearl did.”

Peridot stopped grooming herself and turned to Pearl, her golden eyes flickered over the fresh wound Pearl was bearing. She looked surprised, grim, her tail flicking impatiently back and forth.

“Lapis insisted.”

“Did she?” Peridot said. This time surprise was absent from her voice.

“How can you act so...” Lapis hesitated, swallowing.

“So what?”

“Like nothing happened! That you didn’t die!” Lapis shouted, standing up.

“Because I didn’t die,” Peridot said, matter of fact.

Lapis wanted to argue that Peridot had-- at least it felt like she had died to Lapis. But she was tired of fighting and feeling sour. She let the subject go and knelt down, caressing Peridot’s exposed belly. Happiness could be fleeting, so she savored the moment. 

X

Amethyst arrived mid afternoon, reeking of beer and stale potato crisps. Lapis could smell her from behind the door, could hear her too.

Lapis rolled over, drawing the covers over her head, and as she predicted, Amethyst barged into her room, kicking down the locked door. She hadn’t even tried the lock first. Was she that predictable, Lapis wondered. She loosened her grip on the covers, pretending to be asleep, but Amethyst was unconvinced and tore the covers off of her.

“Oops!”

“Amethyst!” Lapis shot up.

Amethyst laughed. “Yeah, she’s not really sleeping. Just pouting.”

“Amethyst!” Pearl chided, but then as she entered the room she scolded Lapis too. “She’s right-- you can’t stay in your room forever.”

X

The aroma of stale tea leaves was waiting for them in the kitchen. “Don’t you ever brew the tea I give you?” Pearl had asked as she poured it into three cups and one bowl (because there were no more cups). 

“When it rains,” Lapis said.

“You could just tell me you don’t like it.

Lapis didn’t answer, only frowned. Pearl served tea when she had something to say or when questions were asked. Tea wet the lips and eased the body during discussion.

“Explain what happened.” 

“I wanted fresh air,” Lapis began. She left out why she needed to get away and figured Pearl could fill in those blanks. She talked about the jellyfish. Pearl’s brows pinched at that part, searching Lapis’s face. Whatever Pearl was thinking, Amethyst spoke aloud.

“We could have helped, you know.”

Lapis shrugged, shaking her head, to this and the many questions that followed. “I wasn’t thinking,” was her only answer, if any.

After Lapis finished her story, Pearl and Amethyst turned to each other, silently agreeing on something. Pearl cleared the table and came back, chewing her bottom lip and fidgeting with her fingers, steepling and then re-steepling them.

“I think it would be for the best if Amethyst and I stayed a few more days.”

Lapis’s finger twitched against Peridot’s ear, the familiar curled up in her lap. She wondered what she had said wrong to warrant an extended visit. Peridot later said, not reassuring her, that it wasn’t what she was thinking.

“You hid it well.” 

“It doesn’t feel like it.” There was no denying it and they were alone, whispering in the dark. Lapis’s arms were wrapped loosely around the the purring familiar. She liked the rhythmic rumbling against her chest. “I feel so transparent sometimes.”

“You’re not really.” Again, not reassurance. A stated fact. “You’re hard to read.”

“Maybe it’s because when I’m with you I feel like I can’t hide anything.”

“Please. No one is as perceptive as me.”

“Did you know I would run off?” Lapis asked. She ought to be changing the subject. Why was she lingering on it?

“Yes.”

“How?”

Peridot shrugged, “intuition. Our bond? I know you.”

Lapis pulled the covers close to her lips, pensive. “Are you going to tell Pearl?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Because you’re her familiar?””

“Because I care.”

Lapis rubbed Peridot’s pointed ears with her thumb and forefinger. She was glad Amethyst and Pearl were staying a little longer, despite her worries. It meant Peridot would stay longer too. Lapis pulled her closer and nuzzled the top of her head. Already, Lapis could pick up traces of Pearl’s scent from Peridot. She still smelled like hay and sunshine, but the overlays of saltwater were dissolving steadily, talc and silver taking its place.

“I’m actually glad we’re not bound anymore,” Peridot said, shifting closer, purring loudly. “Maybe now you’ll believe me.”

“Believe what?” Lapis asked, feigning ignorance. She had never needed to hear it more than now, with Pearl’s scent overpowering her own. She could feel the connection they had shared severing with each passing hour.

Peridot lifted her head and the purring stopped. Her golden eyes narrowed, not agitated. She was fiercely reserved, overcompensating her shyness with something aloof and deadpan. 

“That I care,” she reiterated again. “Don’t make me say it, Lapis.”


	6. Chapter 6

Pearl said they would stay one more day after that night. First she would go into town to buy provisions. She had clucked her tongue at Lapis’s empty food stores. Lapis had retorted that it was because Pearl had thrown everything away-- including the tea. 

Peridot and Amethyst stayed behind, keeping Lapis company. Pearl said she would be out most of the day; she had to take the broom back home first. She said the aeroplane’s passenger seat could hold the amount of groceries she meant to buy. Lapis had offered her money before she left but Pearl politely declined.

While Pearl was gone Lapis made some remark about how her home didn’t feel the same and Amethyst took advantage of that, helpfully toppling over Pearl’s organized piles. Lapis was surprised to feel guilty, seeing the damage all three of them did in an afternoon. Pearl had worked so hard to clean up, but they had also been very bored and certain Pearl would forgive them after a sharp scolding.

“I leave for one day...” Pearl had grumbled, stocking the cabinets.

Lapis was prepared for their departure in the morning. She had gone to bed feeling awfully melancholy about it, even though Pearl had ordered Peridot to stay with Lapis as if she were still the water witch’s familiar.

However, in the afternoon, when Lapis trudged sluggishly out of her room, Pearl was sitting at the table, hands perched in her lap, looking like she had something important to stay. 

Amethyst and Peridot were absent and there was tea on the table, fresh leaves this time. Lapis drank and admitted it did make a difference. Pearl chuckled, awkward and faint.

“I’ve been thinking, Lapis.”

Lapis set the cup down. She had been waiting for it. Peridot had promised she would tell Pearl against her wishes.

“Yes,” Lapis said, as if offering herself to the scaffold. 

“We should resume your training.”

“You talked to Peridot,” Lapis replied, lowering her eyes defensively before flicking them upwards at Pearl with a practiced confidence.

“I did,” Pearl admitted. “But before that, I had planned to talk about this. Lapis, if you had finished your training, you would have been prepared for what happened a few nights ago...”

Lapis opened her mouth to speak. Pearl spoke over her.

“It’s my fault.”

Lapis swallowed, her eyes widening in surprise. Pearl made a soft and abashed tittering sound, index finger tracing around the rim of her teacup. Her cheeks were flushed, embarrassed by the humble admission.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have ignored you. I had promised Rose I would teach both you and Steven but I-- I broke that promise.” Teardrops fell on Pearl’s steepled hands. “I’m sorry. You had all the right to hate me for what I did.”

Lapis sat up, taking Pearl’s hand. She shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t have... and I don’t hate you. Not anymore. Or, well I never did hate you. I was mad, I think. I’m not sure anymore. It doesn’t matter.”

“I was so focused on making you forgive me that I didn’t notice what you really needed either,” Pearl continued, gripping Lapis’s hands. “I can be more than your teacher. I can listen to your burdens, hold them when it's too much, teach you how to cope. You don’t need to be alone. Not as a witch, not as a person. We can be together.”

“You want me to live with you.” Realization sparked in Lapis’s voice.

“Yes.”

Lapis’s hand relaxed in Pearl’s. Her chest was light and trembling, surprised by herself now. So much had changed between them in so short a time. She had lived with her loneliness and her depression for so long it was all she knew about herself. Happiness was fleeting and not the self she knew. She had been afraid of trying, worried she would become a stranger to herself.

But this change between her and Pearl had eased that fear. Their conflict was a chrysalis they had broken out of, emerging as the same witches, but also different, better than they had been before they emerged. 

And perhaps, Lapis’s inner conflicts were the same too: just several skins that had to be shed; not until she was ‘better,’ but until she passed on.

“I’ll do it,” she said, gently squeezing Pearl’s hand, as if punctuating the decision.


	7. Epilogue

The wind was rustling. The zephyr would not stop. It teased Lapis’s skirt upwards and ruffled Amethyst’s hair and Peridot’s fur. It blew gently through Pearl’s teal dress robes, the silk rippled like waves.

On the journey to the top of the tower, its staircase winding, the wind had howled at them, the gusts nearly knocking Peridot off balance. Lapis stood her ground against the wind. Amethyst went with it, allowing it to push and pull her. Pearl walked through the wind; it was a part of her. They were walking because the time had come when she would become a part of the wind. 

Lapis was not ready.

They had stopped at the top of the tower, where the wind had miraculously eased and a closed, ornate door awaited Pearl. The door could be seen from both sides but all knew looks were deceiving. What was on the other side was something only Pearl and her predecessors knew. She had walked through the door once when she was a woman, and walked out from the other side a witch. Now when she would walk through it, the door would close and she would not emerge from the other side.

She had told Lapis this, trying to prepare the younger witch. Lapis had asked-- not begged-- her not to go yet. But Pearl had told her that what had helped her come into her powers was calling to her. It was the same call that led her to this tower, the same call Lapis had heard from the spring.

“I heard a song. What did you hear?” Pearl had asked.  
“Whispers,” Lapis said.

Lapis wondered if Pearl heard a song lilting through the air. If she did, none of them could hear it. Lapis wondered if this was how Pearl felt when Rose gave herself to the vines. She knew what Pearl had felt when the water witch preceding her sank back beneath the sea. How had Pearl been so strong? Could she be strong too?

Lapis was afraid of more than losing Pearl. Her depression still flowed through her, although occasionally it ebbed. She remembered being alone without Pearl to hold her. Pearl had over the past five years sang her to sleep and kissed her brow, had allowed her to be happy, but also sad, offering her support in both situations. 

Lapis had finished her training in two years, but continued to live with Pearl, appreciating her company.

Lapis knew happiness was fleeting. In spite of her fits, it was still there. Pearl was still there. But Lapis couldn’t depend on Pearl anymore, and the thought was shaking. The very grief of her teacher’s death was certain to provoke feelings she had been able to battle for five short years. She could feel something prodding inside of her, an uncertainty, a quiet, desperate, despondent anger.

Pearl turned and opened her arms. Amethyst was the first to hug her, squeezing her so hard she popped her back. Peridot hopped in Pearl’s arms after Amethyst’s turn. The affection was short but nonetheless sentimental. Lapis was the next in line and she hesitated to trade farewells. She thought if she could prolong it maybe Pearl wouldn’t leave, but then what if she did and Lapis hadn’t wrapped her arms around her? The possible regret is what moved Lapis, and even when Pearl pulled her in close, Lapis was slow to return the gesture.

“I’m scared,” she said, just as she had said then, a few nights ago.

“You’ll be fine. It will be bad, but better. Better than it was then. You’ve learned how to cope when those moments come.”

“You won’t be there.”

“Not in the way you’re familiar with. But I will be there.”

“You expect that to make me feel better?”

“No... but it will help you regain your balance. “

“Did Rose tell you what you’re telling me?”

“No.”

“Did the previous water witch?”

“Yes.” Pearl smiled. Her eyes were misty. “Imagine my surprise-- telling you those same words.”

Pearl stepped back. It was only a step, but already she felt so far away.

“You’re going to miss the Harvest Festival,” Lapis said. On the way to the tower they had made a stop into town to drop off jars of jam and fresh-baked bread for the Harvest Festival’s market faire. Lapis had baked one or two loaves. The dough was tough but Pearl had reassured her she would do better next year.

Pearl smiled, distant and sad, but also proud. “You’ll be there.”

X

On the way home Lapis noticed the gaudy love poem etched along the broom handle was gone. Instead, written simply were two words:

_Remember me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Thank you to those who left kudos, comments, or referred someone to this story. 
> 
> This was the most difficult multi-chaptered fic I've written but I'm happy with it. While writing this I realized I have only read one story with an adult character who has depression. Often that is linked with teenagers. I think that's a shame because only giving teens that representation (and how it typically is poorly handled in those facets) makes it look like depression is an "immature" thing to have, furthering the stigma attached to it.
> 
> I hope I was able to write a character like this well and I hope that this helps others understand those who deal with depression. I learned a lot while writing this.
> 
> My next multichaptered fic. . . I've thought about doing a canon divergent AU where Peridot finds Malachite on accident. I haven't written it or decided on a name. Keep an eye out on my A03 or you can follow me on tumblr @  
> http://tat-buns.tumblr.com/
> 
> Until then, take care.


	8. Extra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter, featuring light Jaspearl.
> 
> When I was first conceptualizing this story I was going to sprinkle in hints that Pearl was seeing Jasper but the story went in a different direction. 
> 
> This takes place after chapter 3.

“This place used to be a butcher shop,” Pearl said, gazing wonderingly at the shelves stacked with fresh-baked breads, pies, and a plethora of other baked goods. She breathed in. It smelled wonderful, not like the sweet smell of meat which made her insides curdle. This was a marked improvement from what the building once had been. The bakery was packed full but organized, giving Pearl that odd satisfaction that Amethyst didn’t understand.

“Sure was,” Jasper replied, watching Pearl walk around the bakery. She was wearing puffy gold short pants with white tights and flat shoes ornamented with gold leaves. Her hat was large, wide-brimmed and covered with spanish moss and pink tulip flowers. The way she walked, the way she was dressed, her voice and mannerisms drew attention towards her. Jasper couldn’t help but stare.

“Did you buy the building from the Armstrongs?” It had been seventy years since Pearl had set foot in here, but her memory was crisp, photographic, a talent that predated her time as a witch.

Jasper shook her head. “It’s still in the family, Miss. Just changed businesses.”

“How strange,” Pearl commented. Finishing her strides around the bakery, she stopped in front of the pie display case. “Did a relative marry into the Clementine family? Your pie recipe is nearly the same-- with a few flaws.”

“That, I did buy.” Jasper leaned forward, raising a brow over the pie case at the bit of critique, as if Pearl was seeing something she couldn’t. “What’s wrong with the pies?”

“Well,” Pearl started, “your crust is overworked. Tough. That’s all that is the matter, really. Other than that, it’s nearly perfect. I can show you how to make it properly.”

“Sure, just let me close up shop tonight.”

X

Pearl contented herself by finishing her shopping. Amethyst ran off when Pearl announced she was going back to the bakery. Without disclosing her destination, Pearl knew where she was running off to. “No gambling,” Pearl warned, although she knew Amethyst wouldn’t listen. She hoped her familiar wouldn’t get into too much trouble.

The bakery was empty with a closed sign hanging off the window. The door however was unlocked and Pearl let herself in.

“I’m upstairs!” Jasper called down and Pearl followed her voice, meeting her in an attic room with a little kitchenette. 

Earl grey tea was steeping in a tea pot and there were biscuits on the table. Jasper did not at first glance appear to be someone who held such social conventions. Pearl was pleasantly surprised and helped herself to a biscuit while Jasper poured her a cup of tea the size of a bowl. 

Pearl noticed that many things were twice their average size in this room: the plates were as big as tables, the forks more the size of pitchforks, and the glasses like telescopes. Even the bed looked excessively large, a king-sized spread to Pearl, but to Jasper it would be so small her feet would hang off the edge. 

“We’re doing it here?” Pearl asked. The attic was spacious to her, but she noticed that Jasper walked hunched over to avoid the ceiling, and the floorboards creaked under her heavy steps. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do this in your bakery kitchen?”

“I thought we could talk in private,” Jasper said, sitting in a chair. Pearl was long-legged and did not struggle to perch in the chair facing the other woman.

“What for?”

Jasper offered her sugar for her tea. Pearl politely declined and took a sip.

“I know a veteran when I see one. I was surprised, the way you’re dressed-- took awhile for me to see it.”

Pearl’s eyebrows rose, disappearing under the brim of her hat. “How can you tell?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Your eyes,” Jasper simply replied. 

Pearl was speechless. Jasper continued. “They’re the same eyes I see every morning when I wash my face in the wash basin.”

Pearl found herself staring, searching for whatever it was Jasper saw in her eyes. Jasper’s eyes were sharp and hazel with crows feet that teased the corners. Her jaw was set, face hard and tired. Pearl was beginning to see it now, maybe not in the eyes, but other places. Since she could remember, her own smile was always tight and feigned, some worry in the back of her mind keeping her from fully enjoying the moment.

“I see,” Pearl said, and then, after a few sips of tea, “I served in both wars.”

“Impossible,” Jasper said. “The one before the last one was--”

“Two hundred and three years ago, yes.” Pearl smirked, amused by the surprise on the other woman’s face. “I served the first war as a woman, the more recent one as a witch.”

“You... you look good.” 

Pearl held back a snort, chuckling into the back of her hand and watching the flush rise in Jasper’s cheeks. “Thank you!” she said, and set the cup down as she finished her tea. 

Jasper turned away, speechless and still red.

“Well, if you have nothing else to say, let’s go downstairs and bake.” Pearl slid out of the oversized chair and tucked it back in place. She stood, waiting for Jasper to make a move, and after a startled pause Jasper stood and led her downstairs into the bakery.

X

There was little evidence that the building was once a butcher shop. Not a single knife hung on a rack, not a drop of blood or rust red stain remained: just the butcher’s block shoved to the back of the room, with sacks of flour piled on top of it. The ovens and baking equipment were fairly new. Some Jasper said she had won at an auction, and others were gifted to her by the Clementine family. 

“Why a bakery?” Pearl asked, wrist deep in a mixture of lard and flour. Jasper added a pinch of salt, a pinch of sugar, before answering, eyes lowered:

“Got tired of touching dead things.” 

Pearl nodded, understanding. She would never forget making careful steps across the battlefield afterwards. 

“Now we add the milk.” She changed the topic and Jasper was ready with a full measuring cup. 

They never mentioned the war after that and Pearl was careful not to bring up family or the history of the building, Jasper had flinched at the Armstrong name. Perhaps the business transition was not something the family had agreed with. Pearl wondered how long ago Jasper restarted the business as a bakery, and how long ago her parents had passed. So many questions, yet she kept quiet, hands behind her back, leaning over the table as Jasper rolled out pie crusts. 

As always, Pearl lost track of time, Jasper too. The sun dipped low, inviting the evening before they knew it. When the kitchen darkened, Pearl whistled to light the candles and Jasper watched. Her eyes lit up too, like a child's, full of wonder. 

Not long after, the pies finished baking. Pearl had taken a sliver of each one and nodded, satisfied. “You’re a fast learner,”she remarked with surprise.

“Did you expect anything less?”

Pearl had blushed at that, feeling ashamed, caught in her assumption. She stopped herself from making a defensive explanation and instead dusted her clothes, releasing a plume of flour before washing her hands.

“It’s nice,” Jasper said later, leading her out. “To be around someone who understands.”

Pearl gave her a quizzical look before understanding set into place. They had not talked about war, so she had nearly forgotten. 

“It is,” she replied simply. It was one of the many reasons why she missed Rose’s presence. There was Lapis, but she had grown up during the war, fighting for her own life, not for her country. And there were the remaining human soldiers, receiving medals like her own, but Pearl had walls and standards and after coming into her powers felt she was above them.

Jasper was strangely different, not expectant, not talkative. She had let Pearl do all the talking as she kneaded and rolled pie dough. Occasionally mid-sentence Pearl had paused to critique her technique and Jasper did not fight her on it, making the proper adjustments. She was humble, Pearl realized, and proud too, but not enough to cloud judgement or barr an openness to change and opinion. 

“I’ll come again-- if you want me.” Pearl could read the invitation in Jasper’s eyes.”I have several recipes to pass on.”

“I would like that.” Jasper smiled and shook her hand. 

As Pearl walked on, the twilight in her eyes and Amethyst advancing towards her, Pearl whispered, “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> If you like my work and want to help support me, I am taking commissions.  
> http://tat-buns.tumblr.com/post/143903893490/tats-writing-and-audio-comissions


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